


I Could Let You Have It

by Sailorzeplin



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: M/M, Soulmates, plz be nice to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 18:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorzeplin/pseuds/Sailorzeplin
Summary: Yeah well I could give a fuck about youHe can get whatever he needsEvery time that he looked at meYou know I felt weak to my knees





	I Could Let You Have It

Brian had never really bought into the idea of soulmates. From an early age he had been a free-spirited kid, pushing back against rules and authority in ways that were never really harmful, but gave the adults in life premature gray hairs and a constant wariness for too much silence. So when he was told that the Universe, an abstract concept too big for a ten year old kid to understand, had predetermined who he was supposed to be in love with for the rest of his life, it didn’t go down easily with him. 

“Nope!” he had exclaimed to his teacher, after sitting through the tedious - but necessary - lesson on soulmarks. “I’m not gonna marry my soulmate, I’m gonna marry my bestest friend Angela.” And the teacher had given him a tight lipped smile and ushered them into the next lesson of the day. 

From then on, his opinion on soulmates shifted, but it always stayed fixed firmly on the bedrock of ignoring it completely. Elementary school he would play soulmates with his friends, writing each other’s names in markers on their arms, middle school he liked to brag about how he thought they were stupid and how he’d never fall in love, and his early high school years were marked by the decidedly punk rebellion he had against all forms of control, including soul marks. But during all of those phases in his life, he’d never actually had the mark. It was more a concept to him, an abstract idea he could push back against and fight just because it seemed fun and he was a rambunctious kid with an anti-establishment streak. 

But on the night of his eighteenth birthday, the night he was supposed to receive his mark, he was surprisingly nervous, for someone who didn't care.   
~~  
“What if I don’t get one Laura? Or it’s some stupid name, like Finnigan, or Karen? I’m not gonna marry a Karen, Laura. I can’t do it.”

“I thought you weren’t going to marry your soulmate?” she asked, half smiling as she teased him.

“Well, yeah, of course I won’t. Obviously. But I’d be totally offended if the Universe thought I would be a good match for someone like that.”

“I’m sure it’ll be someone just as stupid as you are.”

“Yeah, thanks Laura. Really helpful.”

“It’s always a pleasure.”

He was glad he had Laura, for moments like those. When he was biting his nails and jostling his leg and staring at his forearm in anticipation, leaning his head on her shoulder and settling in to wait. 

It was the burning sensation that alerted him to its presence, a white hot flash of pain deep inside his skin before it disappeared, leaving in its place a name, deep and black like tattoo ink against the pale skin of his inner arm. Patrick Gill. Not too lame, he decided, twisting and pulling the skin in a sort of wonder. His heart was beating a bit too fast, out of nerves or something more he didn’t know. But he showed the name off proudly to his parents and siblings, ignoring Laura’s crow of laughter at the uncanny similarity in their last names, hyperfocused on the feeling that settled deep in his chest whenever he looked at the name.   
~~  
Years had passed since then. He had moved out of Baltimore, dragging his best friend and his sister to New York with him so he could become a “Polygon Video Producer” and live out his dreams of making weird content in the realm of online video game journalism. He had found a Patrick Gill, he had fallen in love, and he had become really good at hiding his mark, because he was certain Pat didn’t have his name back, a cruel little twist of fate after his early years of denying wanting a soulmate. 

Working with him was almost like hell, but it was still so sweet he almost wanted to cry, because the man was funny and talented, a perfect balance to the over the top energy he still hadn’t figured out how to tone down completely yet. He checked in on him, made sure he was eating and taking care of himself, with soft hands and warm touches that never lingered long enough. And Brian wanted him so badly, wanted to kiss him and hold him and take him in ways he had never wanted to experience with anyone else. But he listened to him talk about his girlfriend, smiled thin lipped and fake happy as he rambled on about how much he loved her, and went home and wrote sad songs about love and pining and cried with Laura and Jonah about how unfair it all was.   
~~  
Months of working with Pat had passed already. Brian had learned to invest in tattoo covering makeup, had learned to avoid touching Pat for too long, had learned to live with never being loved back. But then he was being told he was going to E3, that he was going to live in a house with Pat for a week and his carefully constructed world began to fall apart. Because when they were sitting in the Airbnb he felt Pat’s knee touching his, felt him inch closer on the couch until they were tangled together and Clayton and Simone had to pretend to not see them, for all intents and purposes, cuddling together as they watched old game shows. Because Pat was sharing a room with him and he’d walk in wet from a shower and Brian almost had to physically restrain himself from launching into the other’s arms and staying there forever. Because it was almost like Pat was a forbidden fruit, and as an ex-Catholic himself, Brian knew the consequences of giving in to that temptation.   
~~  
It wasn’t until Unraveled had taken off, that the relationship between Brian and Pat began to noticeably change. It started slowly, Pat coming over and staying late to workshop scripts, pulling in close to Brian, so that the smell of his shampoo and cologne permeated the air. Going out drinking and dancing pressed close together, grinning as they moved with the bouncing crowd. Texting late into the night and falling asleep on the phone together, like teenagers in romantic movies stricken with puppy love. And it progressed from there, until it was almost natural for them to be seen together quite often, smiling and laughing and leaning into each other like they couldn’t help being pulled together. 

Maybe that was why Brian had let his guard down that day, arm free of makeup and waving wildly about as he danced and flailed through another filming session, until Pat was suddenly calling for a stop, eyes wide and zeroed in on the still pale flesh of Brian’s inner forearm, on display fully for him to read the name stamped into the skin. 

Brian’s fight or flight responses were screaming at him, but he had calmly lowered his arm, allowing himself to be led to the side by Pat, nerves rattled because he knew what was coming: anger, shock, disgust, hatred. But instead, he could feel a hand in his own, holding him. He looked up from where he had been staring at shoes in surprise, watching Pat’s mouth move, dimly aware that that meant he was speaking. 

“Breathe for me Brian. There we go. Deep breaths, in and out. There we go. Good. In and out…” 

Pat was helping him, wasn’t yelling or rejecting him or pushing him away. He was holding his hand, guiding his breaths, being...nice. Brian didn’t know what to do. But he let himself breathe with Pat, gripping his hand tightly and hoping he wouldn’t let him fall.  
~~  
It was years later when Brian could finally look back and laugh at how stupid they both had been. When he was curled up around Pat, fondly running his fingers over his name printed boldly on his husband’s - god, he’d never get tired of saying that - arm, he would almost burst into laughter at how ridiculously they had been pining, but then Pat would ask him what was so funny, and he’d shake his head, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips instead, grateful to the Universe for giving him a soulmate.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about this


End file.
